Gone
by Karri
Summary: written with Ananka and Deana The team has a bad day one with the potential to change their lives fovever.
1. A World Unraveling by Karri

Gone By Karri, Ananka, and Deana 

Disclaimer: UC is owned NBC Studios andShane Salerno. This short story was written for entertainment purposes only and no money is being made. The original characters & situations are the property of the author.

oOoOoOo

"Chill. They're only a few minutes late, probably stuck in traffic," Agent Alex Cross whispered nonchalantly, watching her partner fidget nervously. 

Agent Jake Shaw responded with an impatient glare, but nothing else. He knew Alex was as anxious as he was and found it aggravating that she seemed so cool. 

"Relax, Jake. Everything's fine," Frank's Donovan's low tones whispered into his earpiece. "I'd have worried if they'd been on time; they never have been before."

Alex smirked as Jake's sighed. She knew he was a chronic worrier. Even when everything ran perfectly, he'd worry because nothing was going wrong, and something always went wrong, so obviously they'd missed something that was going to come back to bite 'em in the butt. He was also impatient – a characteristic she found incongruous with his occupation. Yet, despite these traits, Jake Shaw still managed to be one of the best UC agents around. Shaking her head at the irony, Alex casually wandered over, wrapped her arm around his and started to speak. Unfortunately, the sound of their world imploding interrupted her.

"Pfshwoooomp. Pfshwoooomp. Pfshwoooomp."

Jake took off running before Alex had really registered what it was she'd heard through her earpiece. Her arm still wrapped around his, she numbly allowed him to yank her along. However, as they reached the back-up van, she planted her feet, forcing him to stop long enough for them to disentangle and pull their weapons.

Jake signaled her to go in from the front, as he prepared to open the back door. Noticing the door was cracked, he peaked inside and something caught his eye. Caution went out the window as he realized it was Monica's hand, strewn limply on the van floor. Throwing the door open, Jake jumps inside and knelt down, checking for a pulse. His eyes closed, as he felt nothing. 

"Nonono!" A voice screamed in his head. "She in the van! She's safe…in the van! She can't be shot! She can't be dead! She's in the van!"

"Let me!" Alex ordered, practically pulling Jake to his feet and shoving him towards Cody's body, draped limply over one of monitors. 

"He's alive, I already checked," she yelled, as Jake stared numbly at the computer whiz. "See of you can do anything to stop the bleeding still back-up gets here!"

Jake nodded, set his gun down, and lifted the kid with both hands, laying him gently on the van floor. Jumping back up, he raced to the front, grabbed the first aid kid, and raced back. Kneeling down, Jake quickly yanked out a pressure bandage, tore open Cody's shirt, and pressed the gauze against the gapping bullet hole near the center of the kid's chest. 

"Here," he hollered, sliding the kit towards Alex. He was relieved to see his partner'd had better luck finding Monica's pulse. At least, he assumed as much since Alex had pulled the profiler's shirt open and was pressing hard on the gunshot wound near the center of Monica's chest. 

"How is she?"

Alex didn't even bother looking up, let alone answering. Neither of them needed to tell the other that their teammates were in bad shape. The blood pooling on the floor and dripping down the walls was sufficient testament to the severity of the wounds. 

Jake glanced back down at Cody. Teetering on the edge of control already, he knew the look on his partner's face would be enough to push him over. However, focusing on Cody wasn't really any better. Jake found himself acutely aware of the waxy pallor of the kid's skin. If it hadn't been for the fresh blood oozing through the gauze and onto his hand, he'd have doubted Cody was even alive – but people didn't keep bleeding once their heart stopped, _right?_ Attempting to escape the thought, Jake glanced out the back of the van and was struck by earth-shattering realization.

"Where's Frank?"

Alex froze for an instant, before desperately scanning the van. He wasn't there. Looking at Jake, she noticed his gaze was fixed out the back of the van. Careful not to let up on the pressure against Monica's wound, Alex scooted to the other side of the profiler to follow his stare. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes found the bloody trail Jake's eyes had fixed upon. Someone had been dragged out of the van – someone big and bleeding heavily. Jake and Alex's eyes met and locked on each other, as the sound of sirens whirring in the distance grew nearer.

oOoOoOo


	2. An Old Friend by Ananka

oOoOoOo

_2 days later…_

In her Gym in the basement of her Townhouse, Jordan Wallace worked with the punching bag with her feet. Kicks, right and left followed by a flurry of blows with her hands made her trainer blink. 

The trainer declared "Ms Wallace, I can show you no more."

Jordan paused and wiped her face with a moist warm towel. She smiled disarmingly and said in a soft Scottish drawl, "You have taught me much already. I am stronger than I ever was. So, will you stay on my staff to make sure I keep my training up?"

The trainer shook his head. "I know you, you will work yourself daily you drop. Do you have a demon following you Ms Wallace?" 

Jordan shook head tiredly. "No, Bayard, just a family name to maintain. Well, lunch should be ready by now. One more lunch together... and you cannot be a stranger." 

Bayard sighed. "Ms Wallace not even if I tried could I forget your hospitality."

She was eating a light salad with lobster chunks in it, reading a report form her staff chief. She heard the phone ring and her secretary came in.

"You might want to take this one." 

Looking at her, eyes narrowing, Jordan stood up "Continue Bayard...I will be back soon."

She went into her small corner office in the old home and sat down. It was on her computer, the files. She called them up and winced.

"Are they alive?" 

The voice on the other end said, "Two for certain one unknown." 

"How can it be uncertain?" She snapped.

The voice declared, 'Because the third was missing, taken from the surveillance van. I am asking you to take this one as a personal favor Ms Wallace, you are the best." 

Jordan sighed. "I don't accept petty flattery. So, the van is available for me to check? How about the survivors?" 

The voice declared, "They are in the hospital. Damned close call for them. "

She asked, "Why is this such an important case for me to consider accepting it?"

The voice said slowly, distinctly, "Because, Ms Wallace, an old...friend of yours is involved. In fact he's the missing party." 

Jordan raised one already perfectly arched eyebrow. "Enough games, who is missing?"

The voice said slowly,"Frank Donovan."

Jordan's hand, resting on the desk, clenched into a tight fist. "Why should I help that cold blooded sob?"

The voice said slowly, "Because you are possibly the only one who can. Go to this address, what's left of his team will escort you to the safe area where Cody and Monica are being taken care of. They will follow your orders."

Jordan changed from sweats to a suede suit and suede boots, all in black except for the jacket. It was heavily bordered with colorful bands of Sioux beadwork. She had worked thick hair into a single braid. She went out to her car, and aimed the remote at it. The alarm sounded for a second then shut off. With a frown, Jordan slid into the handsome solid black on black Mustang R. She was off in a flash, dodging in and out of traffic till, in the waterfront warehouse district, she found the building.

Looking at the dingy door, she punched a code she had been given and walked up some stairs. She entered the large room. A well organized area, she decided and ventured in. 

A voice declared, 'Stop right there...Or you are a dead woman." 

oOoOoOo


	3. Frank's Fate by Karri

oOoOoOo

Frank flinched as a hand lifted one of his heavy eyelids and flashed a light into it. As the hand moved to the other eye, he groggily cursed himself for the reaction. 

"Ah, Mr. Donovan, welcome back."

Frank continued to curse himself. The flinch had given him away, depriving him of the chance to get a feel for the situation. Forcing his reluctant eyes to open very slowly, Frank discreetly looked around, hoping to remember where he was and why he there. He saw IV lines, unused bandages on he bed, a man standing over him….and remembered – but forced himself not to react.

Their attention focused on Jake and Alex, the gunmen had caught them completely by surprise. Frank silently cursed himself, again, for that. The gunmen were professionals - all business, no talk. Monica's had gone down first, then Cody. A tickle in Frank's groggy brain found that odd. _Why did they take me down last? I was the only one that could shoot back. _

Playing back the hazing memory, Frank's brow unconsciously furrowed, very slightly. In hindsight, it seemed like the gunmen hadn't intended to take him down at all. He'd gone for the gun strapped to his leg; the bullet through his hand had prevented him from drawing it. Frank remembered a curse from one of the otherwise silent gunmen when they realized the bullet had also gone through his leg, burying itself in his other leg. 

_They shot Monica and Cody in the chest without hesitation; why aim for my hand? My vest? No. They could have taken me down anyway. They need me alive_! _Why?_

His eyes finally fully opened, Frank confirmed what he'd suspected: he wasn't in a hospital. He was in….his brow furrowed again. The walls were strange…like glass.

"Tsk! You scared me there, Donovan. Thought you might die on me and ruin everything."

Frank glanced toward the man he presumed to be a doctor of some sort. The man stood by his head, seemingly examining something. As pain shot through his injured hand, Frank realized what…_and that his hands were cuffed over his head_. Reflexively, he shifted his legs and groaned as pain screamed up his spinal cord. However, he still managed to register that they were cuffed to the bottom of the bed, limiting their movement – _as though the pain wouldn't limit that enough. _

Frank also realized that the `doctor' had winced at his pain, but the man said nothing. He hadn't been the one to speak. 

"Aw! The pain medication starting to wear off, is it? Well, you better enjoy what little comfort you have left, cause you're not getting anymore."

Frank managed, awkwardly, to raise his heavy head enough to spot someone standing outside his glass cell. The face was familiar, but his groggy brain couldn't place it. 

"Don't remember me, Donovan?"

Frank silently cursed, annoyed that his grogginess prevented him from maintaining a stoic mask. The man had enough advantages without being able to read Frank's thoughts on his face. 

"That's all right. You won't forget me, again, or my beautiful Angele."

_Angele!_ The name clicking in Frank's reluctant brain, he pulled up the memory. Angele Evrard, only child of Justin Evrard, kidnapped two years ago. _His case_. The exchange went bad. The kidnapper was killed. Frank didn't get her back. 

"Ah! I see you remember now. She was my life and I didn't even get to bury her, Donovan. I'll spend the rest of my life not knowing what happened to her…where she is. Just like the bastards that care about you, assuming there are any, will spend the rest of theirs not knowing."

"I...d..di…" Frank parched throat prevented him from defending himself. He'd blamed himself, too, for a long time, but eventually accepted that it hadn't been his fault. Things just went bad; he hadn't handled it wrong. No one else could have handled it better_. It just went bad! _

"Don't bother trying to defend yourself, Donovan. There's nothing you can say. You were there to get her back. You failed me. You failed my Angele. You'll have the rest of your life to dwell on that failure."

Frank furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what Evrard had in mind. He obviously didn't intend to kill him. He wouldn't have bothered with the doctor if that were the plan. 

"Wondering why I'd bothered to save your sorry life? Can't figure it out, huh? That allegedly keen mind of yours a little hampered by the drugs? Well, let me explain it to you," Evrard offered, grinning maliciously. "If you die, your suffering is over, while mine continues. We can't have that, now can we? "

Frank winced, again, as the doctor check the more serious of his leg wounds. Running out of strength to hold his head up, he focused on Evrard's voice, instead of the doctor's touch.

"No. As long as I'm alive, Frank Donovan, nothing with be spared to keep you that way too, whether or not you want to be." Evrard paused for a sinister chuckle. "This state of the art cell I spent a fortune building just for you allows you to receive food and water, and anything else I may be inclined to give you. Maybe a book or two to keep your mind sharp, or a newspaper? What do you think? Would you like that, Frankie, an occasional glimpse into the world you'll never get back to?"

He paused to let his words sink into Frank's drug-laced brain. After a minute, Evrard continued.

"The airflow is controlled, so you needn't worry your keen little mind about suffocating, or even catching a cold. But if you do, I'll know about it. There are cameras set up all around your little cage; there's nowhere for you to hide. We wouldn't want to risk anything untoward causing a premature death, now would we?"

Frank felt the doctor move away and realized he must be nearly finished. He'd have to leave; there had to be a way out. Searching for him, Frank found the man injecting something into one of the IV lines and raised an eyebrow. Evrard had indicated he wouldn't be getting any more pain medication.

"Not to worry, Frankie. The IV's are only antibiotics and fluids to keep you alive, no more pain medicine. We wouldn't want you to getting too comfortable in there, would we? In a few days, it'll be safe to take out those IV's and your cuffs will be removed. You'll be free to move around, assuming the pain will let you, so I can't risk letting you observe the good doctor's departure. Enjoy the brief reprieve. It won't happen often."

Frank tried to keep his eyes open, to stay focused on the doctor, but the drug-induced need to sleep tugged relentlessly at him. Between blood loss and the drugs already in his system, he couldn't fight it for long.

"Night, night, Frankie. Don't let the bed bugs bite," Evrard bade. Frank's eyes drooping closed, a thick blanket of blackness muffled the word, but strangely, not the malicious laugh that followed. It sank into Frank's subconscious, scoring the dream into which he sank.

oOoOoOo


	4. Jordan Takes Charge by Ananka

oOoOoOo

Pale blond hair in one tight braid, Jordan commenced her daily workout in the crib's gym. She had moved in there in order to be close to where the ambushed team spent most of their time, and to be near where Frank had spent his time. Pulling on work out gloves, she pulled off her exercise shoes preferring to be barefoot for her practice. 

Watching, Jake shouted, "Ms Wallace. Phone." 

She took towel from the rack and went into the privacy of Frank's office to take the call. A reedy voice asked "JW?" 

Jordan asked, "What have you found for me, Ferret?"

She nodded and said, "Good work friend, your usual reward will be in the usual spot. If you will put the word out for me...I have a personal interest in this case. A deep personal interest. I will offer a 7 figure reward for information leading to just a name. A minute, Ferret..." 

She went to the door of the office and called, "Jake, Alex, come in here." 

She settled in the chair and put the call on conference. "Ferret, listening are two people I trust implicitly. Here are my thoughts on how you may get a lead. If it is a matter of vengeance, they will keep him alive, healing him enough so they can begin to torture him."

"What I need from you, Jake, since Cody is out of it, is to pull up all Cody's files for say, the past 3 years. Get the ones involving, say kidnappings, ransoms, things of that sort, where the cases weren't solved. Download them and bring them to me. I will be staying here until our quarry is caught. Ferret, your job is to hit the streets, they will need a doctor. They won't approach legitimate doctors; they will take the ones who specialize in treating the wanted...find out if any of them are missing, and get the word to me."

There was a click as the Ferret hung up and she looked at Jake and Alex. "Any questions?" 

Alex nodded. "How do you know him." 

Jordan smiled. "Lets just say we have known each other for a very long time. We merely grew apart, Our jobs ya know. Lets leave it at that," She called over her shoulder. "Alex, I wonder if you could do me a favor. I will give you my kennel keeper's address. I want my canine back up. Call them and have them bring Rommell and Panzer to assist in providing back up."

Alex raised her eyebrow, and Jordan began her workout again, never stopping her thought processes in regards to the case. "Rommell is a shutzen trained German Shepherd, and Panzer is his Companion, a Rottweiller who has come in handy tracking." 

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "How will they help." 

Annoyed Jordan did a spinning roundhouse kick on the bag punishing it "DO you always question your superiors orders? WE can sleep a little once in a while and they won't sleep while we sleep. No one will catch us unawares, and when we find out where they are keeping him, if it is a large building, Rommell is an unparalleled tracker. Each of you have your assignments, fulfill them." Her hint of a Scottish accent rose. "One more thing…we'll find him, I guarantee it." 

oOoOoOo


	5. A Nightmare Relived by Deana

oOoOoOo

"Let the girl go, Bates!" Frank yelled. "The place is surrounded, you'll never escape!"

"You'll never find her!" the criminal yelled back.

Frank felt an odd sense of deja vu. 'This isn't real, I'm dreaming,' he thought. He sighed, taking a step closer. "This is gonna go down one of two ways," he said, pointing his gun in the direction of the kidnapper's voice, as he stood in an abandoned warehouse; Bates hidden somewhere on the second floor. "Give yourself up now, and you'll only be busted for kidnapping. Resist, and you'll make me kill you. Do you want to die, and die as a murderer, if what you say is really true?"

Bates laughed, from where he crouched, ducked behind a rail. "It IS true! You'll NEVER find her! Never! You know what FBI really stands for? Fumbling Bumbling Idiots!" he laughed, in a sing-song voice. 

Suddenly Frank heard running, and he spotted the felon disappear through a door. Running to the stairs and quickly climbing them, he ran as fast as he could, following the kidnapper to the top of the building. He opened the door softly and crept onto the snowy roof, pointing his gun warily. Seeing no one, he cautiously walked around the corner, but heard snow crunch behind him and turned around just in time to avoid being pummeled with a lead pipe. Not wanting to kill the man before they learned Angele's location, he ducked and struck out at him, but Bates was prepared for it and twisted away in time, smacking Frank's gun hand with the pipe. 

Frank gasped at the unexpected pain, and heard his gun clatter away and slide on ice, going over the edge of the building. He went to punch Bates again, but stabbing pain laced through his hand when he tried to make a fist, so he had to use his left hand instead. 

It was an unfortunate thing for Frank; he knew he'd get hit again with the pipe in the time it took to switch hands, so he pushed away from him, slipping on the ice. 

The kidnapper lunged forward at the same time, and also slipped. They both went down, landing on top of each other, not far from the edge.

Frank tried to get out from under the madman quickly, before he used the advantage to push Frank over the side of the building. He saw with relief that Bates had lost the lead pipe, and he fleetingly hoped it didn't land on the head of an innocent person walking down the street. 

Frank managed to get out from under Bates, but could only use his left hand to lean on, as he tried to get up. Bates was further away from the edge then Frank, and he kicked at him, trying to push him off. 

Frank was trapped; Bates wouldn't let him get further away from the edge; moving in the same direction he did, in front of him, laughing madly. 'The name 'Bates' suits him well,' Frank thought. Suddenly Bates flopped back onto his rear, and Frank took the opportunity to try to scramble up and run past him, away from the immediate danger. 

What happened next took Frank by surprise, and THAT didn't happen very often in his line of work. Bates had tricked him; lunging up and punching him in the face, painfully knocking Frank flat on his back.

Panic shot through Frank, as he felt his body slide towards the edge of the roof. Bates was laughing, as he wrapped his hands around Frank's neck. 

"I beat you!" Bates yelled. "I beat the mighty Frank Donovan! Now you'll BOTH die!" 

Frank tried to pry Bates' hands from his throat, but doing it one handed was having little effect. Finally he gave up on that, and punched Bates in the face instead.

Bates hadn't been ready for it, as he'd continued to gloat. His face went from lunacy to a psycho anger, and he punched Frank in the face, knocking his head against the ice. 

Frank had to bite back a groan. HOW had he lost this fight? He gasped when he felt thin air under his head, and realized that he was practically hanging over the side of the building.

"Goodbye, Frank Donovan!" Bates yelled. 

Suddenly they heard a gunshot, and Bates jumped, loosening his hold on Frank's neck. 

Frank used the opportunity to try to push him back, and was suddenly sprayed with blood when another gunshot sounded.

Bates fell onto his back, dead before he hit the roof.

Frank's mouth dropped open. With Bates dead, they would possibly never find Angele now! Forgetting his still-dangerous position, he didn't move, in shock over losing the case; not being able to reunite Angele with her family.

Suddenly he was grabbed and pulled away from the roof's edge. Fingers felt the pulse in his neck, and he realized that his eyes were closed. 

"Frank?" said a worried voice.

Frank opened his eyes to see the nervous face of the Chicago PD's police chief. 

"Who shot him?" Frank asked, softly.

The Chief's eyebrows furrowed, before he answered, "Not sure yet. One of the patrolmen."

Frank sighed, closing his eyes again with a wince. The pain he felt in his body was nothing compared to the pain Angele's family was about to feel.

"Frank? Stay with me," said the Chief, anxiously. 

Frank reopened his eyes, and tried to sit up. The Chief helped him, and he tried not to groan when his head swam, aching from being slammed against the ice. Reaching his left hand up to his face, he felt blood seeping from the corner of his left eye, thanks to Bates' punches. 

Suddenly he felt a handkerchief being pressed into his hand, and he took it from the Chief, holding it against the wound. 

"I don't know where she is," he whispered.

"Angele?" the Chief said, with a sigh, as medics finally made it to the roof and hurried over to kneel beside Frank.

Frank nodded, carefully, as one of the medics moved his hand away from his face to see the damage underneath. "He didn't give me any clues at all. We may never find her..." 

Suddenly Frank startled awake, from the shockingly vivid dream. His right hand had been fractured by Bates' lead pipe, and as he lay there with the same hand currently throbbing intensly, he groggily thought for a minute that it was still that day two years ago, and he was still in the hospital. They'd kept him overnight for observation, wanting to be sure that he hadn't received a concussion. 

He tried to shift his position, and gasped when his legs unexpectedly came alight with massive pain. 'I didn't injure my legs when I fought Bates...' he thought. Suddenly the situation came back to him, and he felt a stab of fear. 

He was a prisoner. Held captive by Angele's father! Monica and Cody had been shot, and for all he knew, Alex and Jake could've been attacked too! He could be the only one from his team left alive, and he would be spending the rest of his existence here, according to Evrard. 'No,' he thought. 'Monica and Cody are NOT dead, Alex and Jake are fine, and they are looking for me.' The realistic part of his mind told him that either Monica or Cody or both could be dead. He suddenly felt guilty for his occasional picking on Cody. 'How are Alex and Jake taking it, if they ARE dead? Will their grief interfere with their rational minds, and make them miss whatever possible clues to my whereabouts they might find?' He sighed, knowing that all he could do was wait. 'If you guys ARE alive,' he thought, 'hurry.'

oOoOoOo


	6. Moments of Despair by Karri

oOoOoOo

Taking a break from the files to vent her frustration, Jordan pummeled the punching bag with a long succession of quick jabs. Pausing to catch her breath, she realized that it hadn't worked and spun around, kicking the bag in annoyance. She still didn't feel any better. 

Unconsciously glancing at the clock on the wall, Jordan sighed. They'd followed up dozens of Frank's old cases, yet were no closer to finding him than they'd been when she arrived. The files weren't talking; the streets weren't talking; the kidnappers weren't talking. Jordan glanced at the clock and sighed, again. Only one hour and twelve minutes to go till Frank had officially been missing for exactly a week. 

Seven days. She'd had been at this long enough to know that was a lifetime in a kidnapping case, especially when there were no demands. 

Jordan pummeled the bag, again. The blood trail leaving the van told them, undeniably, that Frank hadn't left in good shape. She had Ferret looking for underground doctors, but that didn't mean the kidnappers used one. Nor would it necessarily matter if he'd only been patched up enough to.... Jordan spun around and kicked the back twice, in quick succession. Gunshot wounds and torture. Not, generally speaking, a good combination – if you were hoping to get someone back alive, that is. 

Seven days. Frank was a damn tough SOB, but they were looking for a body now. She knew it. She wouldn't admit it, but that didn't change it. His team knew it, too, although they weren't about to admit it, either. Nope. Frank Donavan was coming home – one way or another. Wrapping her arms around the bag, Jordan rested her forehead against it as she caught her breath. 

_Jo._ Her memory whispered in Frank's low, sultry tone. 

"Frank," Jordan responded, in an unconscious whisper. 

_You haven't let me down, baby._

A breeze from air conditioner wafted through the gym, caressing her skin. It felt so much like the tickle of Frank's long fingers running down her arms that it made her shiver and spin around. Of course, there was no one there.

"You're dead," Jordan stated, aloud. 

_Not your fault. _His voice whispered, understandingly, in her imagination. 

Jordan lashed out at the bag, in response, pummeling it mercilessly. That was just like the damned SOB - always so understanding; so fuckin' in control. In fifty-three minutes, it would one week. She hadn't gotten him back, and, now, he was probably dead. _Was it too damn much to ask that he be a little pissed off about it?!_

Jo 

"I hate it when you fuckin' call me that!" she breathlessly swore. Following the jabs with several swift kicks, she spun around to follow it up with several more kicks with the other leg. Then, Jordan went back at it with her fists until, finally, she dropped to her knees, physically and emotionally spent. 

"I'm sorry, Frank," she whispered. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to remember his smile…the depths of his eyes…the feel of his arms around her….

oOoOoOo

Frank inched his way out of drug-induced oblivion until he sat on the verge of consciousness. There, he paused. The fuzzy feeling pervading his brain told him he'd been knocked him out, which indicated a visit from the `physician.' Once the man had finished, it would just be lights out again, so it hardly seemed worth the effort of waking all the way. 

When no touch flared up the pain in his continually throbbing limbs, Frank tried to focus, but to no avail. His body sensed no one nearby. His ears heard nothing but his own breathing. He would have open his eyes and look. Reluctantly, Frank slowly lifted his heavy eyelids and scanned his prison. He found no one there. 

"Ah, this is the _IV_ drug haze…so hard to keep the two straight," Frank sarcastically muttered, irritated with himself for getting it wrong. He knew Evrard used some sort of gas to knock him out before the physician entered. It left a distinctly different fog in his brain than whatever IV drug the physician injected to make him sleep. 

The residual effects of sedative tugged at Frank, and he closed his eyes. It seemed a shame to waste the chance to get some real rest. Although his only escape from his misery, sleep didn't come often. Most of the time, between the pain and the fear gnawing at his gut, the best he could hope for was a light doze. Staying awake wouldn't accomplish anything, anyway, he told himself. He'd already scrutinized everything his very limited mobility allowed him to see. 

Aimlessly drifting back toward oblivion, Frank's brain distractedly registered the feel of paper beneath his hand…._which was no longer handcuffed above his head._ His eyes flew open with the realization. Lifting his head, Frank look down at his body and discovered that he was free. No IV's. No handcuffs. Unexpected giddy delight washed over him, bringing a wide grin to his face. 

Painfully sitting up, Frank swung his reluctant leg over the edge of the bed. A wave of dizziness kept him from venturing further. Steadying himself with his good hand, Frank closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. The pause made him remember the piece of paper. Carefully glancing down, he found it now resting partially beneath the 

less injured of his legs. Biting his lip, Frank shifted enough to pull it out, breathing a sigh of relief when he manage not to topple off the bed in the process. 

He left the note on the bed, allowing his good hand to return to steadying him, then, carefully read it. The lingering haze in his brain made the words a little fuzzy, but he managed to make them out. They were instruction from the physician – how to change his bandages, physically therapy advice. Frank chuckled. Considering the circumstances, it seemed oddly considerate of the man to be worried about his patient regaining full use of his limbs. Strange or not, Frank appreciated the instructions. 

Closing his eyes to let a transient wave of weariness pass, he pondered the physician. The man seemed like a good guy. Frank wondered how he'd gotten dragged into Evrard's scheme and if he'd be able to live with himself. With any luck, the physician's conscience would get the better of him and loosen his lips. 

Frank sighed. He really needed some good luck right about now. He'd been missing….Frank anxiously realized he had no idea. _Let's see…antibiotics are usually administered for seven to ten day…so, optimistically…I've been missing for seven day_. Frank let himself be optimistic. Why not? Seven days, ten days, it was all the about the same. 

He closed his eyes, despairingly. Evrard had what he wanted, so it seemed doubtful he'd made any demands. Seven days with no demands…his people were looking for a body now; Frank would be, if it were his case. He knew from experience that was the point when the energy went out of. The cold case file – that's where he'd be soon.

Realizing he was starting to wallow, Frank forced his eyes open. _He wasn't spending the rest of his life Evrard's prison_. There was obviously a way in and out; he just had to find it. Frank smirked. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. 

oOoOoOo


	7. Jordan's Dilemna by Ananka

oOoOoOo

Jordan took a quick shower after her workout. She had to function and, in order to do that, she had to figure a way to keep her emotions out of this case, but it was personal. Damn it, she still had a soft spot in her heart for Donovan. _Face it, girl, he was the best lover you ever had_. She shivered at a stray cool breeze down her back and snorted.

She sat on a personal exercise mat and assumed the Lotus position. She seemed to zone out as Jake and Alex watched. 

Alex smiled. "She's focusing. I heard about this from some SOU operatives whom she worked for. She's trying to clear her mind. I mean, I Never believed in psychic ability till I read some of her case files and her results were...astounding." She stated, "Jake when she looks at me I think she can read my mind, and it scares me."

Jake agreed. "I will NOT attempt anything with her, though I know no one will believe it. Alex, she scares me. And she's moving." 

They ducked and sprinted for the table. Jordan came out with her huge dog on her heels. She made a motion, and Rommell dropped to his haunches, then down to the floor, his head on his forepaws, and watched his mistress.

Jordan went to Frank's office and looked around for something, anything he would use and not likely anyone else would use. She opened drawers in the large desk and looked down in a bottom drawer. There was a small kit with toiletries in it. She scooped it up and left the office. She went to the briefing table and settled at it with one hand on the shaving kit.

She shut her eyes and began to breathe deeply. Rommell perked his ears up and watched his mistress intently. Jordan gave an almost pained grunt "I feel pain, in two places. In the chest, and the leg. He was shot twice, which is why there was so much blood. He knew the attacker. That's why he did not react. But, Alex, Jake, he is alive."

Alex and Jake both looked at each other, and she smiled a tiny bit.

"I am going to attempt to get his impressions. He is tired, but is awake." She squeezed her eyes and attempted what Jake considered the impossible. She struggled to make him feel her consciousness trying to touch him.

On the narrow bed, Frank was having a dream, he thought. It was someone he had not forgotten, not by a long shot. Jordan. She was standing by the bed and looking down. She looked the same, beautiful, and unreachable. He reached for the Phantom and muttered, "For the first fucking time in years I see Jordan and can't do anything about it, damn you, Evrard!"

Waking up Jordan's mouth closed in pain "He is very much alive, and he mentioned, in his delirium, a man - Evrard. His name was not in any of the cases I read. Who is he?"

oOoOoOo


	8. Grasping at Straws by Karri

oOoOoOo

The image of Jordan floated around Frank's head, adding to the loneliness and pent up frustration that determinedly refused to allow him sleep. Sighing in exasperation, he bit his lip, pulled himself up and swung his throbbing legs over the edge of the bed. The effort left him breathless, forcing him to rest before attempting to rise. That reinforced for Frank that he _had_ to get up, get moving, get his body back into something resembling fitness….and get his brain focused on something beside wallowing. 

Scanning his prison, Frank's gaze fell on the shower in the opposite corner. He'd eyed the thing a hundred times in the nineteen hours since he'd awoken freed from his restraints. _Nineteen hours._ Frank scowled, knowing Evrard had graciously provided him a clock - with a calendar - to rub in every second of every day his prisoner remained forcefully separated from his life. Frank could just imagine the self-satisfied grin that graced the psychos face as he watched. _Watched!_ He forced his stoic mask back in place. Evrard could control his surroundings, but Frank's mind was still his own. He had no intention of allowing the psycho to continually read it plastered across face. 

Refocusing on the shower, Frank forced his face to remain expressionless as he gazed at it. A week's worth of sweat, blood, and filth made for a pungent combination that he'd grown weary of smelling, but the knowledge that Evrard might be watching him shower had kept him from doing it. Barely able to repress a shudder of revulsion, Frank forced himself to his feet and slowly limped toward the opposite corner of his prison. _Every time he thought about showering, but then didn't because of Evrard, he handed Evard another victory._

oOoOoOo

"Yeees!" Jake blurted, snagging the attention of Jordan and Alex. 

"You found something, I presume," Jordan stated, flatly. They'd spent the past dozen hours sifting through any bit of information they could get their hands on regarding Justin Evrard. Every time it looked like they had something that they could use to tie him to Frank's kidnapping, it washed out. She was too weary to get her hopes up again. 

"He's got a second cousin in Seattle that's a veterinarian; name's Eugene Angers," Jake answered, sounding as though he'd just single-handedly brought Frank home. Alex glanced at Jordan, then back to Jake. 

"So?" 

"So?! Vet….doctor…," he prodded.

"Reaching a bit, Jake," Alex sighed in response. They'd been grasping at every straw that crossed their path all day; it was getting old. 

"Maybe," Jake countered. "Maybe not. Angers just happened to catch a flight out of Seattle to O'Hare eight days ago. No advance purchase; paid full fare."

Alex let herself feel a small tickle of hope. 

"He catch another one home?" Jordan asked, not ready to believe they might have an _actual_ lead. Jake grinned.

"Booked on a four-twenty flight back to Seattle today."

Jordan glanced at her watch, then, grabbed her phone. It was five to four; the plane would already be boarding. They'd never get to the airport in time to grab Angers.

"Yeah, its me," she announced into the receiver. "I need to stop a flight out of O'Hare….."

Pausing, Jordan fixed her gaze on Jake. 

"Oh, yeah, uh….Delta flight….1276."

"Delta flight 1276 to Seattle, scheduled to take off at four-twenty. Yeah, I know. That's why I called you. Do whatever you have to do, just don't let anyone off the plane. Uh-huh. Yeah. I'm on my way."

Hanging up, Jordan grabbed her jacket and keys and headed for the door. "If you two are coming, you better get moving." 

Glaring at her back, Jake and Alex scrambled to follow. 

oOoOoOo

Frank forced back a grin as he stepped from the shower onto the plush carpeting. The dull throbbing in his leg had increased with each second he remained in the shower, and lathering and rinsing had been harder than he'd expected it to be one-handed. Still, it amazed Frank how much more human simply being clean made him feel. Standing there, dripping wet, he could almost believe he was going to get out of this mess, but his face remained expressionless. _The moment was his; Evrard didn't get any piece of it_. 

Curling his toes into the carpet, Frank's mask almost slipped. _Carpet? _Evrard seemed to have gone out of his way to make his prison uncomfortable. _Why the luxury of carpet?_ Frank stared, expressionless, at the plush strands as he dried off. Hobbling over to the bed, he eased himself down to sit on floor. The thought of what the carpet was there to hide distracting him enough not to be repulsed, he gingerly dressed in an Evrard supplied change of underwear, jeans and sweater. 

Frank left his hands fall limply, as he finished slipping on the light sweater. He hoped if Evrard were watching, it would simply appear as though he'd run out of energy. Letting his injured hand throb unnoticed, he dug the fingers of his other hand into the carpet, trying to get a feel for what lay beneath it. His masked almost slipped again, as he allowed a tickle of hope. _What better way to hide the outline of a door than beneath plush carpeting._

Frank closed his eyes and rested his head on the bed, pretending to be too worn out to pull himself back onto the bed. Counting away the minutes as he feigned sleep, he forced his body to relax and let himself gradually loll to the left, until he lay on the carpet. There, he concentrated on not _really_ dozing off. _Not even Evrard could watch him constantly._ Frank hoped if he were watching, he'd take a break if it appeared Frank were asleep. 

Counting away twenty minutes, Frank dug his good fingers into the carpet again. Patiently inching them outward, very slowly, he focused on any nuance of irregularity beneath the thick padding. If there were a door hiding under there somewhere, he'd find it – _after all, it wasn't as though he had anything better to do_.

oOoOoOo


	9. The First Domino Falls by Karri

oOoOoOo

"Again, we apologize for the delay. We should have the problem sorted out shortly and be on our way."

Fidgeting in his seat, Eugene Angers anxiously glanced at his watch for the twenty-third time in the eighteen minutes since the pilot first announced his flight's unexplained delay. So far, nothing about the situation indicated anyone was on to him, but a nervous tickle plagued his stomach, all the same. He'd aided and abetted in the kidnapping of a federal agent. Every cell in his body screamed that that wasn't the sort of thing people got away with scot-free. Gene glanced around, nervously, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

`Damn you, Justin!' he silently cursed. `Why the hell did you have to get me involved in your vendetta!? If only….'

Gene didn't bother finishing the thought. Even if he'd had the guts to do it, Justin wasn't the sort of person anyone said `no' to, least of all someone with as many skeletons in the closet as Gene had. Sighing loudly, he opened his eyes and glanced at his watch, again. 

Frowning at how little time had passed, Gene looked up, hoping to find a stewardess that could give him some sort of guesstimate for departure. His gaze immediately fell on a scruffy, Hispanic-looking man chatting with the steward. The man's eyes discreetly darted Gene's direction, aggravating the nervous tickle in his stomach. Twisting around, Gene searched for the rear exit, but found, instead, a black-suede-leather-clad blond standing in the aisle, her attention fixed upon his seat. 

'_I knew it! I knew he'd never get away with this!_' Gene silently cursed, as he inwardly groaned. He didn't require remarkable intelligence to grasp that he'd been made. Jumping up from his seat, Gene turned toward the rear exit, figuring the odds were reasonable that he could take the girl. 

oOoOoOo

Slowly rousing, Frank groaned in response to the ache throbbing throughout his body. He instinctively attempted to push himself up, intending to stretch the pain away, but his body refused to comply. Breathlessly collapsing back into the carpet, Frank realized he wasn't simply stiff. His muscles and - he slowly registered - his bones throbbed with the ache of illness. Sighing inwardly, he turned his head to lie more comfortably and stared across the floor as he fuzzily pondered why he would be sleeping there.

As his gaze reached a shower and then moved beyond it to a transparent wall, recollection wormed its way into Frank's sluggish brain. He nearly groaned again, but bit it back, not wanting to give Evrard the satisfaction of seeing his misery. Closing his eyes, Frank mustered up some semblance of composure, then, attempted, again, to push himself off the floor. 

His body reluctantly complied enough for him to rise up to his knees, but angrily objected to further movement. Frank's injured legs crumpled beneath him as he attempted to stand. Collapsing back onto the floor, his spent body refused to allow another attempt, leaving Frank little choice but to settle as comfortably as the increasing ache would let him. As a feverish shudder ran through him, Frank opened his eyes. He found himself staring at the shower again. Some part of his fuzzy brain found it humorous. Nearly deliriously rolling from one thought to another, Frank let his eyes drift shut, as he grinned at the irony of not being able to fully wake up after so many days of not being able to fully fall asleep. 

oOoOoOo

Sitting in his favorite chair in the comfort of his den, Justin Evrard cursed as he watched Frank loose his struggle to rise. 

"You better not be trying to toy with me, Frankie! You won't like the consequences!" He hissed aloud, his hand moving over the keyboard controlling the cameras and zoomed in. Frank's face came into focus just in time for Evrard to watch several bead of feverish sweat trickle down the agent face and drip into the carpet. Combined with the pallor of his skin, it was enough to convince Evrard that Frank wasn't faking it. 

Eugene had warned him that they were stopping the antibiotics too soon, but he's been anxious to get on with the show. Donovan needed to be coherent for his punishment to be truly effective. However, Donovan also needed to be _alive_ for it to be effective. Shaking his head, Evrard cursed one last time, before reaching for the phone. 

With any luck, Eugene's plane would still be sitting at the gate, but if it weren't, it would simply have to circle around and land. Evrard smirked. _Money couldn't buy happiness, but it could certainly buy cooperation._ Pinning his gaze on Frank's feverish face, he impatiently waited for the other end to pick up.

"It's Evrard. I need to pull someone off one of your flights….1276, departing at four-twenty," he commanded. "Excellent."

Justin smirked again as he hung up. He hadn't had to do anything or pay anyone. The flight had already been canceled due to a mechanical problem. Fate was definitely on his side….which only increased his certainty that Frank Donovan deserved his punishment. 

The smile faded as his attention returned to the monitor. He felt no real doubt that Frank was truly ill, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. The agent needed to be cuffed back into bed before Eugene could treat him. Grimacing at the thought of moving Frank's large frame by himself, Evrard snatched up the phone to make one more call before getting to work. 

oOoOoOo

Frank hovered on the edge of sleep, inexplicably unable to sink fully into it, despite the sluggishness of his fevered brain. His eyes, cracked open hardly more than a slit, remained fixed upon the shower. He didn't particularly care for the view, but didn't have the energy to move his eyeballs enough to gaze at anything else, or even the energy to force them to close the rest of the way.

Fuzzily pondering the dilemma, a hint of movement caught his eyes – exaggerated by senses on the verge of delirium. A shot of adrenaline shot into his blood stream, clearing away enough to the fog for Frank to grasp what he was witnessing. _The fabled door was opening_! Forcing his eyes not to open further at the realization, Frank feigned unconsciousness as he watched the floor of the shower dropped away. Seemingly an eternity later, the form of Justin Evrard rose, slow inch by slow inch, into view. 

oOoOoOo


	10. Interrogation by Ananka

oOoOoOo

_I knew it! I knew he'd never get away with this!_ Gene silently cursed, as he inwardly groaned. He didn't require remarkable intelligence to grasp that he'd been made. Jumping up from his seat, Gene turned toward the rear exit, figuring the odds were reasonable that he could take the girl.

Jordan smiled coolly and moved for him. She flashed her badge, and when he made for her, she just used a powerful right cross, hooking him on the point of his jaw. He looked up, his jaw hurting and his nose bleeding. Reaching down, Jordan grabbed him by his collar.

"Well...We just made it, partner." Jake grimly nodded, and she said, "Lets take a ride, partner." 

They took the terrified man out and shoved him into a black car. Jake drove, while the silent Jordan sat by Eugene in icy silence. She only looked at him once, when she felt him looking at her, and narrowed her eyes. 

They arrived at the crib, Jordan leading the way with Gene in cuffs. She roughly towed him into the interrogation room. She set him down roughly, and looked at her prisoner. Jordan glanced at Jake.

"Go ahead, Jake, I won't need help with this one. Just send in Panzer and Rommell." 

Jake grinned and soon the door creaked open. Two massive German shepherds came in and sat down, eyes fastened on the man maliciously. 

She put one booted foot on the chair across from the man and said, slowly, in a menacing, ice-like voice. "Lets discuss a missing man, someone I care for immensely, Agent Frank Donovan. You have something to do with his disappearance, don't bother denying it...I know. I want to know where he is and I want to know yesterday..."

Rommell stood slowly and walked over to sit by the man, fastening his intense gaze on him, and Eugene began to sweat. Noticing it, Jordan smiled, coldly.

"Rommell is trained to kill when I so order it. As is his litter mate, Panzer."

Gene made as if to stand, and Rommell put his huge paws on either side of the chair, pinning the man in. Jordan settled one hip on the table.

"Talk, and I will consider pulling him off. Remember, disappoint me and he has his next meal. He prefers his meat warm and bloody."

Jordan knew she was over playing it, but she was getting desperate to find Frank. She could feel he was not well, and she was growing angrier by the minute. She lifted Gene by the collar, and her dogs stood up with her. She warned, "Little man, I grow tired of games...I want the location of where he's being held, within the next minute, or you're dog food."

oOoOoOo


	11. The Escape by Deana

oOoOoOo

Frank kept his eyes closed as Evrard came over to him. It wasn't hard to do, as he was having a hard time keeping them open anyway. He suddenly felt a hand on his arm, and realized he'd almost drifted off. He heard Evrard sigh, and felt a hand touch his forehead. The sigh turned into muttering, and he forced himself to stay limp as Evrard tried to pick him up, to put him on the bed. 

Evrard plopped him on the bed a little roughly, and took Frank's left wrist, fastening the cuff around it. As Evrard went to grab Frank's other arm, he didn't expect Frank to bring his hand up, and smash him in the face with the cuffs.

Evrard gasped as he saw stars, falling onto the bed.

Frank didn't even bother waiting to see if he'd knocked him out or not. Adrenaline flowed through his body at the chance to finally escape, and he somehow managed to struggle up off the bed, and stumble painfully towards the door in the floor of the shower, which Evrard had negligently left open. He had to go down some stairs, and held onto the rail for dear life when his legs refused to cooperate with him. After finally making it down them, Frank found himself in a cellar that didn't have much light.

A stab of pain laced through his legs, one of them worse then the other. The infected one, Frank assumed. His legs buckled and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees, gasping at the pain in his injured hand as well as his legs, and tried to take his weight off the hand as his head swam. 'Get up!' his mind screamed. When he finally managed to, he knew that Evrard 'had' to be unconscious, or he would've caught up with him by now. The thought gave him some comfort, and additional adrenaline, as his mind cheered with joy that he 'would' get out of there. He only wondered how long he would last, as he felt his adrenaline-induced strength quickly fading. 

Frank found more steps that lead up to a new door, and he crawled up them, opening it. He was surprised to see that it lead to the outside, rather then to the main floor of the house. 

If Frank hadn't been sick and in terrible pain, he might've actually yelled, `YES!' at the sight of the wonderful outdoors. That would definitely be something that his team would be shocked and amazed to hear, coming from him. 'The team,' he thought. 'Are they alive? Did Cody or Monica or both of them die? Are Alex and Jake on their way to get me, or will I become lost out here, or recaptured?' His hope started to die, as he stumbled into some woods, the perfect place to hide. 

After a while —only God knew exactly how long— he nearly fell into a ditch that he hadn't even noticed, and he stumbled down into it. His strength suddenly gave out, as if his body knew he'd found a safe place to stay temporarily, and he collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. Almost immediately he felt his consciousness slipping. "No!" he said, aloud. Lifting his head, he tried to drag himself, but a mere foot later, he plopped back down again. 'No!' he told the approaching blackness. 'No...'

oOoOoOo


	12. Reunited by Ananka

oOoOoOo

Jordan, after obtaining her confession on both video and tape, handed them to Alex, who locked them away. She turned to look at Jake.

"See if the federal Marshals are here yet, while I get changed. We are on a manhunt now...OUR man. Evrard had a veterinarian treating Frank...but he's alive." 

She rushed into his office with her bag, shut the blinds, and changed rapidly. She pulled on a jumpsuit loaded with pockets. After she pulled on her boots, she put a thin blade in the boot's built-in sheath. She fastened on her flack vest and searched his desk for a flashlight and something his scent would be on for her dogs. 

She found some gloves. Under them was a framed photo. She put her hand over her mouth. He had kept the souvenir photo of them in Egypt on a vacation 10 years ago. It was of the two of them in front of the pyramids, trying to stay on a camel. 

Jordan angrily swiped at the tears in her eyes, stopping them. She gestured for her dogs to come and went out. "Glen's gone...good. Lets go bring our man home." Jordan led to a SUV sent by the security firm. "It has on-board navigation." She quickly keyed in the address and said, "We are there. Computer says 2 hours." She drove following the voice directions of the computer. 

Pulling it over two hours later, she looked at them. A shared nod, and each pulled their weapons. She decided to use her Glock with a targeting laser. She took the safety off and made a sweeping motion of her arm. Panzer, the rottweiler, and Rommell, the German shepherd, were on their way scouting. 

They found the house and its three guards. They had them cuffed and gagged in no time. Looking at them, Jordan said, slowly. "I am going to remove this and you will tell me where your...guest is." 

No one answered, until one man got a good look at Panzer, who moved forward a hair. He screamed in fright, "Cops, you ain't got the right to..." 

Jordan smiled. "I am not a cop, man, and right now...I WANT to know where my friend is being kept." 

He said, in a faint tone, "he escaped...but he won't get far. He's sick." 

Jordan stuffed the gag in and ran out the front door. She let the two dogs sniff the gloves, and Rommell took off in the lead. She set her pace to the pace of her dogs and kept up. Alex and Jake didn't stand a chance. They fell far behind. Her mind was on Frank, Jordan wasn't aware they were following.

The better tracker, Rommell let out a single bark, alerting her. Jordan sprinted toward it, saw a densely-foliaged bank and slid down the other side, where she found Frank. She fearfully turned him over and brushed his face with a dampened handkerchief, as she felt pulse points and felt the heat from his face. 

She swore. "Don't you die on me, you son of a bitch." 

He moved in her arms and opened his eyes. She had his head cradled on her lap and was looking down at. She fed him sips of sweetened water to give him some energy. 

He whispered, "I Smell Lotus essence...Jordan?" 

His eyes opened slowly, showing how very tired he was, but he recognized her. 

Jubilantly, Jordan hid her smile and said, "You scared me..." 

Frank reached his good hand up, brushing at her face. "Jo, you're crying." 

She nodded. "I am. Like a baby." 

He smiled, tiredly. "Jordan Wallace. Damn, its death being this close to you and not doing this." 

He thoroughly kissed her a weak one, but a good one, and that was when Alex and Jake came up. 

Jake damned, "He chambered another one." 

oOoOoOo

A week later, at the hospital - the same one that held Evrard under hospital arrest until he recovered from the dog bites - Jordan came to visit a restless Frank. He sat in the bed, dangling his legs as he got ready for another walk. Jordan smiled, slowly, her eyes gleaming.

"Looking better, tiger." 

Frank nodded. "I feel better. Come here, Jordan!" 

She cocked an eyebrow and did. Sore hand, IVs, and all, his arms slid around her and drew her close. "Jordan, I need you...in the worst way." 

She smirked. "So I feel." 

Rolling his eyes, Frank declared, "Hold still Jordan, I need to be serious..." She did, and he asked, "When I woke up in that ditch and looked up, I saw an angel. One whom I have dreamed of since I can't remember when, but I was too stubborn to acknowledge I missed you. I was stupid to argue with you, and I want you to be my wife." 

Not one to hedge or dodge situations, Jordan smiled at him, then leaned forward to put her hand flat on his chest, pushed him flat back into the hospital bed and thoroughly kissed him.

"Think you got what it takes to handle me?" 

A sexy little smile crossed his face, and he replied, "Try me?" 

Jordan nodded and turned to leave the room, answering, "You're on." 

Then, with a wink, she was gone from the room. Frank folded his arms behind his head, anticipating his future with Jordan. 

fin~ We'll see


End file.
